I Dare You to Do Better
by OtakuLibra
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that James T. Kirk is possibly a genius and definitely crazy. This truth is so well fixed in the minds of the admiralty that they would all kill him if they thought for a second they'd survive without him. Series,gen
1. And Who Am I, Captain Pike?

**So, I must be a masochist, because here's a new series. I'm a little fascinated by the dynamics of AOS, obviously, and this series is an excuse to explore all those fun little angles that we don't get to see in the movie. **

**That character study addiction? Yeah, this is basically self-enabling. That being said, enjoy. **

* * *

The whole thing is kind of like one of those really sick, concentration-camp, eugenics kind of science experiments. Like they got the admiralty _really_ drunk, enough to think that giving Jim Kirk the _Enterprise_—giving him the _Enterprise_ with _that crew_—was ever a good idea. They're just _kids_, and they're probably all going to die.

And the most disturbing part about the whole thing is that they all seem to know it. And they follow him anyway.

Pike is wondering if this kind of… of _fatalism_ is what he thought he was getting when he got Kirk to enlist in the first place. If _this_ is the kind of leadership he thought Starfleet needed. He sort of doesn't want to know.

It's not that Kirk's not a good captain. Far from it, in fact. They've got the best mortality rate in the fleet—even if the captain's medical record gets longer after pretty much every away mission—and they have an enviable working relationship, all of them. They're not the textbook bridge crew, not by a long shot, but that's not what Pike wanted when he harangued Kirk about not going into Starfleet in the first place.

Pike never knew George Kirk, but he does know Winona. And because of that, he doesn't really _need_ to have known George, because Winona is enough to convince Pike that crazy must run in the family. He has no expectations with Jim. And thank god, because it keeps him from going insane. And Number One would probably kill him if he turned out to be as much of an alcoholic as McCoy, so it's a damn good thing he likes Jim.

It's both a benefit and a downside now that Pike's an admiral. Because he gets to be the guy who convinced the most stubborn genius-level repeat offender in the Midwest to become the most stubborn genius-level captain in the 'Fleet, but he also has to be the one to cover Jim's ass. Which is pretty much a full-time job, forget everything else he has to do now that he's stuck groundside.

And he has to remind himself, after another grueling meeting (read: interrogation) with Komack, that he knew what he was getting himself into (even though he _didn't_, not really, because you never do with Jim Kirk). And yes, Jim is _still_ what Starfleet's lost; he's a throwback, sure, and he might also be their one chance at getting it back.

Pike just sort of assumes that Jim's crew gets that. Mostly because it's the only theory that doesn't give him a migraine.

And he doesn't really need that kind of headache right now. Because he's formulating a theory much more pertinent to his own problems right now, specifically that the admiralty has its own form of hazing, and he hates his life.

Leadership seminar for command cadets? _Really?_

Like Pike has anything to tell these kids. They're all _seriously_ fucking young—Pike thinks they're getting younger every year. Or maybe he's getting old after all, and _there's _a scary thought. And they all look at him like he's some kinda hero or something. Ridiculous. Was he ever that naïve? He doesn't actually remember anymore.

Winona shows up, for whatever reason. She sits in the back of the lecture hall in that leather jacket she was always so famous for, and goddammit, she looks just like she did back when she was one of those cadets. Pike knows for a fact that she was never that naïve. Jim gets that from her, too.

Pike gets up to the podium (he's walking now, but he still has to use a cane). He's got something worked out, note cards and everything, but it all seems kind of stupid and contrived and _fuck_ are they all young. Pike can't bullshit these kids.

So he tells them the truth. He tells them about all the shit he's been through since he was a fresh-faced Southern California boy enlisting in Starfleet. He tells them about the Narada. He's not sure why; even after he threw out the bullshit he wasn't planning on telling them about that. But he does, and they seem to appreciate it.

He sees Winona in the hallway after his talk, when the kids are all on their way back to their dorms. She's lingering. Pike doesn't think she wants to talk to him. She still probably hasn't forgiven him for getting Jim in Starfleet, and he's not exactly sure she won't kill him, even now. Pike knows that there's a difference between her being proud of Jim and her being willing to murder Pike in cold blood for letting her son into the black.

It's not to talk to him. It's like… she's remembering. He knows that look. He's caught himself with that look before. She's seeing their classmates, their friends, the people they went through the Academy with, people they may have served with, gone to hell and back with. People who can't ever come back here, can't just show up for some stupid retreat just because they feel like it.

So Pike knows she probably doesn't want to talk to him (if there's one thing he knows about Winona Kirk, that woman knows how to hold a grudge). But he asks her to have a drink with him, because they're old friends and that's what they do. She nods.

Winona's still driving her motorcycle. She's _fifty_.

"I can't believe you still ride that thing, you psycho," he tells her as she takes her first shot.

And as usual—this is Winona, after all—she completely ignores the point. "I don't understand why all you idiots always insisted on thinking _I _was the crazy one." She almost laughs at that. Pike can see it in her shoulders.

"You were."

"_No_, I wasn't, Pike. I mean—" She cuts herself off, gesturing to the bartender for another round. Her voice is softer when she starts talking again. "—Yeah, I was. But you have to know by now that George was just as fucked up as I am."

Pike doesn't know what to say to that. _Does_ he know?

Okay yes, he wrote a dissertation on the _Kelvin_. He knows. He knows what crazy looks like because he's seen it in more faces than he likes to admit.

Chris Pike isn't crazy. Never has been. He's a good captain, follows regs, knows when to be cautious and when to go in guns blazing. And Jim? Jim he's not so sure about. He's getting used to that feeling. He's spent a lot of his life with that feeling. Winona Kirk is the _personification_ of that feeling.

She's a bitch, but she was a great officer. And Pike respects that. Respects the fact that she doesn't really like him, but she showed up. And she pays for her own drinks, like Jim would.

"Do you regret it yet?" she asks, and he wants to hit her. It occurs to him that Winona was never a people person the way Jim is. He's so much like her, but Winona alienates people the way Jim draws them in. It's eerie.

Pike leans back in his chair, contemplating. He already knows what he's going to say. It's just a matter of whether saying it is gonna make her kill him. Aw, what the hell. He's old.

"Nope, not a bit."

She takes another shot. "Huh. Really."

"Starfleet needs him."

"Sure, but does _he_ need _Starfleet_? You're a good guy, Pike. I like that you're loyal." He just nods at the compliment, wary of what's coming. "But Jimmy doesn't know shit about duty. He's never felt it the way guys like you do. Just trust me on this."

Pike sighs, knocks back another shot, enjoying the buzz. He hasn't drunk like this since the Academy. Tequila. Shit, Winona.

"I know he's crazy, Winona. But we need him. And personally I don't give a shit if he needs us, so long as he stays. I don't ask anything of him. And I'll keep the admiralty off his back. I just need him to stay."

Winona shrugs. "Convince him, then."

"I intend to."

She smiles wryly, grabs her leather jacket off the back of the chair. "Okay." She pauses, standing next to Pike's chair. He can smell the alcohol on her, along with the faint scent of grease and engines. She never changes. "Oh, and don't call me Winona."

"What am I supposed to call you, then? You're retired. Or don't you remember?"

She shrugs again, handing a card to the bartender. "I might have to reenlist, just so I can outrank you."

He smiles. "The day you do that, let me know and I'll have them bust me back to commander. I'd serve under you any day of the week, and I'll even call you 'sir.'"

"Not gonna happen, kid. But nice try. Your gimmicks don't work on all Kirks, you know." She ruffles his hair, which is weird. Nobody's done that since his aunt May when he was ten. But then, it's Winona. That's his excuse for everything she does.

"Hey, all I needed was one."

"Lucky you you got the crazy one." She laughs before he can call bullshit. And then she's gone, driving off in that damned motorcycle with a bandanna in her hair. She doesn't wear a helmet, either.

Damned crazy Kirks.


	2. Something Starfleet's Lost

The thing about Jim Kirk is, he's fucking _crazy_. It's a proven, established fact. And it's mostly okay, because half the time the only thing between the crew of the _Enterprise_ and a very painful death is the captain's insanity, and that sounds bad, but it isn't. And thank god they have Admiral Pike, because most people don't get that if Jim Kirk was _sane_? They'd all be dead about a hundred times over. Pike is like the mitigating influence between them, the highest concentration of brilliant lunatics in the universe, and the rest of—well, everyone else.

Which is great, because they get to go on being crazy (and geniuses, because the two are about as far from mutually exclusive as it's possible to get when it comes to them), and the rest of the universe gets to go on having Jim Kirk as a golden boy and not knowing anything.

But the other thing, which is really actually hilarious, is that everyone thinks Spock is a mitigating influence.

They see Sulu, who volunteered for a high-risk mission with training in _fencing_, who is so damned _intense_ when he's flying that it's scary. Really. He's made an ensign cry. More than once.

And they see Chekov, who everyone's terrified of. And it's not because the kid's scary; that's a joke. He's pretty much a human teddy bear, really. But the fact that he's _seventeen _and in charge of things? That's fucking terrifying.

And there's Bones, who's actually a brilliant doctor, but people seem to forget that when he's screaming at them and jabbing needles in their necks.

There's Uhura, who you do _not_ want to piss off. Because she is a very, very scary woman.

And they see Scotty. Well, they don't actually _see_ Scotty. He's probably tucked happily in the bowels of the _Enterprise_, making some semi-illegal modifications. But anyway, the point is, there's Scotty.

And then, there's Kirk and Spock.

Kirk, being the illogical, daring, crazy captain who's _allowed_ to be all that because for some reason it works. The man's _existence_ seems to be in violation of several laws of physics.

Which leaves Spock to be the logical, objective scientist. The one who keeps them all from chaos.

Jim knows it's all bullshit. Everyone else probably does too, but they don't think about it, in all likelihood. But Jim knows.

They think Spock can keep Jim in line, keep him strictly to regs, stop him from really going crazy. And Spock might actually be able to do that, if he ever really tried. But Spock understands Jim. Much too well. Which translates into… most of the crazy shit they get into.

And it would almost have been better if they'd just continued to hate each other. On their own, each one is scary, sure, but not nearly as scary as when they're together. The day they become friends, the admiralty starts to realize—too late, but Pike already knew that—that they made a huge mistake. Because the day they become friends, they realize that they don't actually need anyone else.

And now? Now it's even worse. Pike doesn't know the specifics of Vulcan bonding, but _holy Christ_. Whoever decided that was a good idea was… Well, it was Jim and Spock, so. That explains everything right there.

It's one of those times when Pike wants to comm. Spock just to scream, "What the hell? You were _never_ this fucking insane when you were _my_ science officer."

And maybe he was. But that's not the point. The point is that Spock's supposed to be the logical one, the one who thinks things through. That's why Jim's allowed to be… well, _Jim._ Because supposedly Spock's there to keep him from taking any more steps off the deep end than he already has.

But Pike isn't being completely fair, he knows. He wouldn't have had any idea Spock was crazy if he'd never gone and pulled a George Kirk.

See, Pike knows Winona's lost it. Before George, before Starfleet… And maybe there's something that most people have that Winona was just born without. Maybe it's genetic.

And then there's George.

George, who had ten seconds to make a decision and laid in a collision course in three. Three seconds. Pike wrote his dissertation on those three seconds. Because those extra seven seconds are the dead weight Pike's hoping he can convince Command they need to lose. And he's hoping Jim will help him do that.

But he's not so sure he can when he finds out that _Spock pulled a George Kirk_. And this is before they were friends, before they were… whatever. Spock trusted him enough to do that.

It's more than a little fucked up.

Starfleet needs to lose those seven seconds. Pike's sure of that. It's going to make them better at what they do.

He just doesn't know if he's willing to send thousands of George Kirks into the black.


	3. Amino Acids

**And she finally updates! **

**Sorry it's been so long. I've been working on a /billion/ other things (most of it fic [see my profile]. I'm not kidding. /Busy/.) Anyway. I swear I haven't forgotten about this fic. So here's a new chapter. Enjoy.**

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"It's just… Is it really okay to _need_ someone that much?"

She's holding a cup of coffee—slightly burned, a little too bitter, even with three doses of creamer, the damned replicators—and leaning against the bulkhead. She isn't talking to anyone in particular. Basically, she expects McCoy to show up, take her coffee, dunk some liquor in it and tell her to get out already. Her shift ended ten minutes ago, and she's cluttering up his sickbay.

It's probably a bad sign that she can anticipate this, that she knows him this well. (And no, she isn't just standing around hoping for some of McCoy's booze—his _is _the best on the ship, but that's hardly the point.)

McCoy doesn't show up, but Chapel's there.

"Hey, Beauvoir," she says, and Aella hands her the coffee because she's pulling double shift and she looks like she needs it. It isn't that they're really good friends or anything. They had drinks, a couple of times, in the Academy, and they both have to put up with McCoy and the Captain's idiocy. That's the kind of thing that Aella considers bonding, even though they rarely talk outside sickbay. Then again, Chapel's, like, _married._ To Uhura, and not literally—yet, anyway—but still.

Anyway, Aella figures it's some kind of divine providence that Chapel's around, because Aella just _doesn't get it_ and maybe Chapel will.

The room Spock's in is technically private, but it isn't like she can't _see_. And it's crazy and scary and fucked up, the look Kirk's got on his face right now, fingers tracing patterns into Spock's hand.

"So is it? Okay, I mean. To need someone that much." It's an honest question. Because she's single, so maybe she doesn't get it, maybe there's something she's missing. But she wonders how it's possible to care _that much_.

Chapel doesn't say anything, just makes a face, a little, at the taste of Aella's coffee. Which she's still drinking, but Aella can't really fault her for that. She looks dead on her feet.

"I mean… Why…?" She doesn't know how to finish her question. "Spock took fucking _torture_ for him. He almost died." A pause, and Chapel hands her back the coffee for another sip—still too bitter, dammit, she's talking to Brewer in Engineering about those replicators.

"You're asking, is it weird?"

Suddenly, Aella feels kind of callous. Maybe the answer should be obvious. Probably. But just because she's a girl doesn't mean she's supposed to have empathy and sentimentalism built in. It's just… The concept of love like that feels a little too far for her to reach.

She isn't sure if she wants to, is why she's asking.

"I don't know, maybe. Madeline would say it's something biological."

Chapel shrugs. "Maybe it is."

"Does that bother you?"

"Sometimes. But just because love is probably just a long chain of amino acids doesn't make it less real."

"I suppose." Maybe that's it. Maybe there's this specific chain, this certain order of chemical compounds in the brain. Maybe that's how it works. And maybe Aella just doesn't have that; her hormones haven't given that signal to her brain yet.

She's a nurse. This is what comforts her, when she needs it.

It takes Aella a moment to realize that Chapel's started speaking again. "—But them? With them, I just don't know."

"Nurse Chapel!"

It's McCoy, voice tense, strained. Chapel grins at her, takes another swig of the coffee.

"Duty calls. See you on alpha shift."

"Yeah, sure." God, that woman doesn't know how to _stop_. She's gone as quickly as she came, petite form squeezing through a crowded sickbay toward McCoy's voice. Aella is more than a little in awe.

When Chapel's out of sight, Aella drains the lukewarm coffee with only a slight grimace and tells herself she really needs to get out of sickbay and relax. Like she even knows the _meaning_ of R & R, these days. Still, some sleep before alpha shift would probably be good. And who knows, maybe she'll comm. Madeline and see if she wants to hit the mess for—what is it now? Lunch, dinner? Regardless. Madeline's nice to talk to. No nonsense. Maybe Aella will ask her that stuff about biology.

Speaking of…

Aella can't help it. She sneaks a look back into Spock's room. Kirk looks like he's been up for weeks (when _was_ the last time she saw the Captain outside sickbay?), and he's holding on to Spock's hand like he's gonna come apart if he lets go. It's beautiful, really. But it's scary.

She's pretty sure anything Chapel has to say on the subject is probably bullshit. She doesn't think you're supposed to need someone enough to take torture for them and not even _care_.

She'll have to ask Madeline if it's possible that some people are just born without self-preservation instincts, and if so, what does that mean for them all?


	4. Parallelism

It's winter, because for some reason they only come home in the winter. Winona wonders if there is some kind of strange significance in that. Tradition, maybe. As if it was possible, easy, even, given what it is they do. Winona doesn't understand it.

She doesn't want to sound ungrateful—no. She's lived so long alone, and… It's nice, having Jim here, even though they drive each other crazy.

Anyway, it's winter, and Jim and Spock are on Earth for leave this year, instead of Vulcan II. And Winona doesn't fucking know what to do with herself.

She's got this way of moving now, of doing things. This way of living that precludes the presence of anyone else. It's easier that way. She focuses on herself, because you don't notice the absences.

Mostly, Winona sits in the living room with her Irish coffee and her favorite engineering journal and half-watches them. They're good together, and that, she thinks, might surprise people—she's heard the word "illogical" more times in the past two days than she has in her life, all directed at Jim. But they move differently. It's like they're moving for the both of them, this weird dance, this flash of pure symmetry. It's beautiful.

"Jimmy, even if you _could_ reach speeds that high, it's not sustainable for—"

His hands are _everywhere_, large, encompassing gestures. It's funny. Winona, even at her most passionate, keeps her motions tight, controlled.

"But it _is_! You just have to minimize the resistance—"

"Right," Winona counters, "And blow yourselves out of the sky."

"_No_. It really works. Take a look at—Shit, Spock, do you know where I put my PADD? I swear I—"

Spock rolls his eyes, and Winona has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing out loud. The sheer _domesticity_ is almost nauseating.

"On the coffee table," he says, deadpan.

Okay, so Jimmy's impulse control issues _definitely _came from her, because Winona can't stop herself from laughing, this time. Jim gives her a sharp look, which she completely blows off, and then gets up to find his datapad.

"All right, Mom, check _this _out. Scotty's gonna blow your mind." He's grinning, that broad, lopsided, cocky grin that's a little bit her and a little bit his father.

She's gotten used to it by now. Honest.

But she glances at the datapad anyway, making some kind of offhand comment about his smugness. It's… It's good. Might even work, with a little bit of tweaking and the kind of math that makes Winona's heart beat a little faster. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jim smiling again, but this time it's… More relaxed. It's sort of nice.

"So, ready to admit defeat?"

She snorts. "No way, Jimmy." She points to one of the calculations on the screen. "There's no way this would work outside a lab. There's too much—"

"I know, but when you factor in the external—"

"Still, it's—Spock." The kid looks up from the pile of vegetables he's been cutting (and that's one hell of a weird image). He raises an eyebrow, as if asking _do you really want my opinion?_ It's sort of… Endearing. A little. Whatever.

Winona laughs. "Yeah, come take a look at this. Jimmy shown this to you yet?"

It's hilarious, the way Spock's eyes fucking _light up_ at that. The three of them are _such_ geeks. It's kind of fun, actually. Spock wipes his hands on a towel and carries a bowl of salad to the table, leaning forward to look at the schematic on Jim's PADD.

Jim, meanwhile, is giving Spock this look like he's Jim's everything, which… Okay, Winona hasn't quite gotten over that fear, that feeling that Jim is going to be left. That he's going to die alone. But. She won't lie. They're good with each other. Really good.

"I believe Commander Kirk—" and it doesn't matter how many times Winona tells him she's retired, he won't stop calling her that. It's like his version of "ma'am." It's funny. "—is correct. Even factoring in the decreased resistance, the warp drive could not handle such excessive speeds for any prolonged amount of time."

"Oh, fine, take her side."

"Only when she is correct, Jim," Spock shoots back, placing his hand on Jim's shoulder for a moment before getting a stack of plates out of the cupboard.

"You're evil."

"Enough to keep us all alive and the _Enterprise_ running. Which would not be necessary if you were not so prone to rushing into dangerous situations. I believe I am content to be evil."

Jim narrows his eyes, but eats a bite of the salad Spock puts in front of him. "I already _have_ a mother, you know."

Which makes Winona laugh because like her control issues are any better than his. "A mother who would be right there with you, phaser on."

Jim seems to think about it, chewing absently. "Good point. Okay. Fine. You do a good job keeping me alive. Feel appreciated now?" he asks Spock, who has handed Winona a plate and is currently arranging the salad on his own.

"Considering your sarcastic tone, hardly," Spock says with an infinitesimal rise in his left eyebrow.

"You know what, Spock? I think we might just end up killing each other one of these days."

"I confess it would be preferable to the many ways in which you attempt to have us killed on a far-too-regular basis."

"Mom," Jim says, fork pointing at her accusingly, "You could, you know, stick up for me or something."

Winona shrugs. "Wouldn't want to get in the middle of true love and all that. Besides, Spock _agreed with me_. So." She waves her own fork in circles, as if saying _get it?_

Jim groans, looking up with a martyred expression. "Haven't you ever heard that blood is thicker than water?"

"Sure, but math trumps everything."

Which makes Jim laugh, as she knew it would, and Spock spends the next half hour cajoling Jim into eating the rest of his salad.

And… It's kind of comforting, them being here. Their banter, the exasperated expression on Spock's face and the starry-eyed grin on Jim's. It's kind of nice, not being alone.

But.

But _oh god_, she thinks, _George. They're _us.

It's true.

The way Jim will get so wrapped up in his ship that Spock has to remind him to eat, the way they snipe and threaten without ever actually meaning it, the way their conversations are all coded and sweet without them realizing it, the way when they're together there isn't another being in the universe.

George probably would have agreed with Chris Pike on the math, too, the bastard. And Winona would have found a way to make it work anyway. Just the way Winona's sure—no matter how long or hard she protests—that Jim will find a way to make it work. He always does.


End file.
